


If I Only

by The_Watched_Pot



Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 17:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Watched_Pot/pseuds/The_Watched_Pot
Summary: In the Brain Room, Glitch talks to himself...





	If I Only

Glitch rested his forehead against the tank, the stop of his zipper making a soft, metallic chink against the thick glass. This was as close as he could get, palms flattened against the tank's outer shell, occasionally straying from the warmth to toy fretfully with the cooler domes of the rivets. He liked the warm glass; his head ached - it seemed to do nothing else, these days - and the gentle heat was soothing.

"Hello, me," he murmured softly, eyes fixed on the pinkish-grey mass of tissue a few inches away. Close up, the delicate mesh of supporting wires and fine capillaries of transparent tubing - all filled with... the Fates knew _what_ kinds of stuff - were visible, even through the occasional cloud of rising bubbles. But if he moved back, distance and his never-perfect eyesight left him with the illusion that the other half of his brain was simply floating in the liquid, like a strange, asymmetrical fish, aloof but content. And that was better, somehow - better not to acknowledge the cat's cradle of life-support, or to think of hospital beds and white coats, and the quiet, uncaring chirp of monitors.

Even so, he couldn't quite bring himself to back away, and he found his eyes following the curves and convolutions of the surface, imagining how it would feel to run his fingertips over the fragile labyrinth, a compact rise and fall of tissue. Just a hand's breadth away, a pound-and-a-half of water and carbon and a witch-brew of chemicals held the keys to his life, past _and_ future, and there it stayed, communicating nothing.

 _When they fix me up, I'm gonna do nothing but_ think _for a week. Invent something fun for DG - maybe something she can ride instead of that creaky old Gump. And some sort of gizmo for Raw to help him track down his tribe. And - and a vest for Cain that'll stop bullets, in case he forgets his little horse one day._

He ducked his head guiltily, realising that he was drumming his fingers on the tank wall, and retreated back a few inches, lacing his fingers together so he couldn't do it again.

"Sorry..." But he was _impatient_ \- who wouldn't be? Dossley, no, _Doctor Oxley_ \- when Cain had finally persuaded Glitch to let him into the room - had talked for an interminable age about the importance of physical therapy, and healing, and recovery, and periods of adjustment, and Glitch had genuinely tried to listen to it all, but after five minutes of interested noises in the right places, he'd noticed that the man had some sort of fascinatingly shiny instrument tucked in his top pocket and his mind had wandered off on a loosely braided tangent that was partly about reflector dishes, and focusing, and amplified light, but mostly about where sequins came from, and if they put the little holes in afterwards, or if they just mysteriously appeared.  
Like with doughnuts.  
Did Cain like doughnuts?

He was a Tin Man, and policemen lived on strong coffee and doughnuts.

And world-weary cynicism.  
And sugar.

Sugar on the doughnuts, not on the cynicism.

Which accounted for the bitterness...  
_Definitely a bullet-stopping vest. Cain's good at making friends with the wrong end of guns..._ Glitch sighed. The world was full of interesting things to look at, and think about, and here he was, stuck in the fortress, waiting for them to glue his brain back together so his marbles could start talking to each other properly again.

"Because... no offence, but you're not much of a conversationalist, right now," he told the tank, and fidgeted distractedly with one wheel of his chair, rocking it back and forth.

Standing in the doorway, Wyatt Cain watched silently, hugging himself against a chill that seemed to come as much from inside as from any draught. 

"Five more minutes, and then he has to go back to bed. I'm still not convinced this is good for him, Wyatt..." Cain glanced sideways at the doctor for a moment, then his eyes were dragged back to the figure in the wheelchair, almost lost inside a huddle of blankets. Livid scars were still clearly visible beneath his close-cropped hair.

"If we don't let him visit, he gets agitated, and _that's_ not much good for him either. He's worried they'll shut the whole thing down if he doesn't keep an eye on it - at least I _think_ that's it. It's still pretty hard to make out what he's saying..."

Oxley nodded, his voice gentle. "Give it time. A fortnight ago I wouldn't have let him go this far from his bed. His speech should recover along with the rest of him, so long as you can convince him to stick with the therapy. He _listens_ to you." The exasperation in his tone was enough to raise a small smile on Cain's face, but it didn't linger. 

"How am I gonna tell him, doc? He doesn't even remember he's had the surgery. How do I explain that they didn't leave enough..." he gestured, frustration tightening his jaw. After a certain amount of pushing, Oxley had talked him through each of the scars he'd discovered during the abortive rejoining operation. Sabotage wasn't a strong enough word. It was _butchery_. "That Raynz made sure no-one would ever put it back?" The doctor nodded unhappily towards the tank and its single attendant figure. Glitch had a hand to the glass again, fingers spread as if to cradle the floating brain, the other raised to his head. Silent sobs were tugging and hitching at his shoulders.

"You may not have to..." Oxley observed, but mostly to himself. Cain was already half-way across the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it's angst. A few years back, my amazing Cain-muse and I wrote the surgery that tried to restore Glitch's brain, and it was harrowing. You don't need to see that grim episode.
> 
> If it helps, Wyatt took Glitch back to bed and there was much comforting. 
> 
> But, for now, angst.


End file.
